


Not Your Fault

by emo_trash



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Reader Insert, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, trigger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:04:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8803711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emo_trash/pseuds/emo_trash
Summary: You were just a waste of space; just another useless pair of lungs hogging the air.
So you might as well stop breathing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Reader's nickname here is "Button"
> 
> Also, maJOR TRIGGER WARNING

You didn't use to listen to the things people said to you. When you were younger, you would let their harsh words and taunts roll off your back.

_"Emo bitch."_

_"Worthless scum."_

_"Slut."_

_"Waste of space."_

_"Failed abortion."_

_"Disgusting freak."_

_"Dyke."_

_"Why are you here if nobody likes you?"_

_"Why don't you just go kill yourself already?"_

Their words used to hurt you, for sure, but you were able to ignore their insults. 

But then you got a little older, and you began to question yourself. Why would they say these things to you if they weren't true?

So you began to listen to the cruel things people would say to you, and evaluate yourself by their standards.

Older still, and you began to take things to heart, believing you really were all of these things they were accusing you of being. All of these years of people calling you names, tormenting you...well, if it's gone on this long, they must be telling the truth, right?

Now you were seventeen, and you couldn't take it anymore. You had nothing—hell, you were nothing! You were just a waste of space; just another useless pair of lungs hogging the air.

So you might as well stop breathing.

You had been preparing for a while. It was hard to get hold of a length of rope without your parents finding out, but you finally managed. 

From that point on, it was just a waiting game—you needed your parents to go out for long enough for you to go through with the act, but it was a rare occasion that they left you home alone. 

But now,  _finally_ , they were gone, and you didn't waste any time.

You hung a noose from one of the low ceiling beams, thankful that your room was in the attic. You double checked the knots, making sure that the whole thing wouldn't snap under your weight.  _Because that would defeat the purpose, now wouldn't it?_

When you were satisfied with that, you sat down at your desk and pulled out a piece of paper. You tapped your pen against your chin, searching for the right words—and coming up short. 

Finally, frustrated, you scrawl down three words:

_**NOT YOUR FAULT.** _

You fold the paper carefully and tuck it in your back pocket, being certain to leave some of it sticking out so that whoever finds you will see it.

You stand up slowly, hands shaking, and smooth your shirt down carefully. You eye the motionless rope, struggling to control your racing heartbeat. You clear your throat as you pick up your cellphone, unlocking the screen and opening up your contacts.

_One last thing._

You click on the name  _Brendon_ , flinching as the digital keyboard pops up.

Brendon Urie, your best and only friend. The two of you had been paired up in third grade to work on a science project together, and you had been inseparable ever since.

He was going to be crushed by this; you know it for sure. In fact, he's the only reason that you hadn't done this before now. You didn't want to hurt him—that's the  _last_  thing you wanted, actually—but...

Now, you just can't do it anymore. You're so  _tired_.

But he deserved more than just three words in farewell, so you haltingly typed out a message, thumb hovering over the  _send_  button as you reviewed what you'd written.

_**I'm sorry to do this to you. I swear that none of this is because of you. You've been the bestest, most amazing friend anybody could ask for. Please, please, PLEASE stay strong; you will ALWAYS have my love.**_

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you hit send.

Mechanically, you dragged your desk chair into the center of the room where your noose dangled innocently. You needed to move quickly now, because Brendon was going to rush over here the minute he read that text.

You stepped onto the chair, unable to hear anything above the roar of the blood rushing in your ears. With shaking, sweaty hands, you grab at the rope, running your fingertips over the loop that was about to take your life. You closed your eyes and slowly raised your arms, rocking forward on your toes, preparing to slip on your woven necklace.

But, out of nowhere, there was a loud  **BANG**  to your left and then something collided with your side, sending you crashing to the floor, the rope ripped out of your hands.

You screamed, thrashing as the weight settled on top of you, pinning your wrists down above your head. A familiar voice shouted at you, and you opened your eyes to see Brendon hovering above you, tears welling up in his dark eyes.

Your heart sank in your chest and your efforts to escape redoubled. 

"NO!" you screamed hysterically, struggling to wrestle your way out of your best friend's grip. " _Fuck!_ Please! _Please_ , just let me— _let me die_!" you begged, going limp, sobs wracking your chest.

Tears streamed down Brendon's face as he lowered himself down on the floor next to you, lying on his side and crushing you against his chest. "You weren't supposed to be here!" you sobbed. "Why are you here?!"

Brendon pressed his face into the crook of your neck. You felt him shaking, and you realized with a start that he was crying. "Why am I here?" he repeats in a whisper, the words mumbled against your skin. "You want to know why I'm here, Button? It's because I got a really bad feeling. I was sitting in my room, listening to music, and out of nowhere I just knew that you were in trouble. So I ran over here as fast as I could." He tightened his grip on you. "And then I was right down the block when I got your text, and I—I thought I was going to be too late." He trembled against you as you began to cry harder. "Button!" he cried softly. "Button, _why_? Why would you do this? How could you try to leave me like this?"

You tried to answer him—you really did—but it was impossible to speak through your sobbing.

You have no idea how long Brendon held you, the two of you lying on the cold wooden floor together. It could have been minutes, but it felt like days, months, years.

And you cried out everything you had in you. Your anger, fear, self-hatred; your ever-present sense of guild and dread; your anxiety, your grief, your pain...All of it you expelled in a flood of tears.

You cried and cried until you had no tears left, and then you shake silently, clinging to the fabric of Brendon's shirt, pressing your face into his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. 

Finally, exhausted both emotionally and physically, you fell asleep, dimly aware of the fact the you would be safe in your best friend's arms. You knew that after this, he was never going to let anybody hurt you again—not even you.


End file.
